


Memories

by beatitupright



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mt. Massive High
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:05:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9924029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatitupright/pseuds/beatitupright
Summary: Eddie and Chris go on a date to a spooky abandoned house and talk about their feelings.





	

It's only four days shy of October and the breeze bellowing through fourteenth street is kicking up paper cups in it's chilly wake. Looking up, Eddie can clearly see the signs of Autumn in the leaves still desperately clinging to their branches. Gold and red dotting what was once purely green. The sights of Fall always give the teenager a lighter feeling in his chest. School is back in session which means he's no longer forced to spend most of his time at home, the weather is crisp and cool, and there are regular showings of classic slasher flicks on the television. His step-mother hates those. She can hardly stand to be in the same room if they're on the T.V. and Jason Voorhees has saved Eddie from a lot of afternoon one-sided "I'm trying to find a way to bond with you" conversations from her. He thinks he likes that part the most.

The familiar rumble of an old Chevrolet breaks Eddie out of his dazed, early morning daydreaming and he stands from his comfy seat on their front-lawn sofa. Whatever time it is, it's too early, but he jerks open the rusted passenger door and climbs inside to meet Chris anyway.

"Mornin'." Chris greets him with a yawn and Eddie has to force himself not to do the same. 

"Yeah." Is all Eddie can muster as a response.

It seems to appease Chris well enough, though. He doesn't ask any questions as he shifts the truck into gear to drive forward and Eddie is thankful for that. Perhaps he's just gotten used to his permanent shitty mood. Who can say.

"So listen," Chris begins, turning to look at Eddie with a sort of excitement in his eyes that should be absolutely impossible at seven A.M. "Y'know that old house about a mile out of town? Used to belong to Mr. Faulkerson?" 

Eddie tilts his head to one side, his eyes scanning Chris from top to bottom as if trying to read him before he can speak again. He does remember Mr. Faulkerson. An old bat with one of those nasty old-people attitudes. No one ever really liked him for anything other than the fresh corn and honey he sold at the farmers market downtown. Faulkerson had finally died some odd years back, when Eddie and Chris were still in Elementary school and a vivid memory of his mother dragging him to the sale held inside that house tugs at the back of Eddie's consciousness. She'd sworn that old man must have owned something of value, but all they came back with was a yellowed vase with the ugliest blue flower print Eddie had ever seen.

"Yeah I remember that old cunt and his house." Eddie says almost bitterly, sinking further down into the ripped leather seat underneath him. Again, Chris doesnt seem to notice his distaste.

"Janet said something about her family leaving town for the next couple of days, which means no one will be watching the property over there. Thought we could go check it out. It's supposed to be haunted and all that." As Chris speaks he takes his eyes off of the road again to look at Eddie for confirmation. "It's something to do, at least." 

"Yeah, sure I'm up for it." Eddie answers and he's trying to sound casual, but there's a spark of excitement in him now. The stories surrounding that house had only grown wilder and wilder in the last seven years. Rumors of ghosts, serial killers, the one and only Leatherface himself-- you name it, a kid somewhere had heard a story that it lived there now. In all actuality the stories were probably just ploys to keep kids away from private property, but the mystery they added to a rundown farmhouse was all too enticing to some. Eddie and Chris included.  

It doesn't take long for the couple to arrive at their destination and once Chris is parked on the gravel plot behind the school dubbed "seniors only", he kills the ignition and shoves the keys into his pocket. Neither of the boys seem fit to move from their seats and the daunting building in front of them is mocking their lack of sleep just by existing. However, Chris does eventually make the first move as he grabs his backpack from the back seat and Eddie finds it in him to follow suit. It's out of Eddie's character to be this willing to even show up for morning classes, but Chris had said something about graduation and how if he didn't he would fail and... Well, as much as he hates school he hates losing even more.

"Ready?" Chris chimes and Eddie gives him the most exhausted look he can muster, begging for some kind of sympathy that Chris doesn't give. Instead he just chuckles before giving Eddie a swift peck on the corner of his mouth. On the inside, Eddie is delighted to receive the affection, on the outside he simply groans dejectedly.

 

The school day proceeds in a way that can only be described as average. Seven hours of seven boring lessons that Eddie has to physically force himself to pay attention to before the last bell rings and he is set free from his learned hell. With what quickness he can exert he grabs his backpack from the tiny locker it's held in and heads for the campus football field. Chris will have already driven the truck there, so he is forced to walk the distance. Not that he particularly minds, it's not too far and the weather is exceptionally nice. It's good exercise too, for what its worth.  

The closer he gets to the field, the more pronounced the yelling from the football coach becomes. Eddie can nearly make out what he's saying when he enters the gym to buy himself a snack from the vending machine, and once Eddie actually makes it to the bleachers across from the team he can hear every bit loud and clear, but he doesn't understand any of it. Something about tackling and running probably, add in something about a fifty yard line and you've got yourself a play as far as Eddie is concerned. It's all far too complicated, but he can see Chris from here and so he focuses on him instead of the incoherent noise babbling from the coach.

Eddie stares intently at the orange-gold number 32 spread across Chris' back. He thinks about how he has worn that jersey when staying at Chris' house, slept in it, ate bowls of afternoon breakfast cereal in it. Thinks about how its so large it's practically a dress on him and Chris thinks that's cute... It's stupid how much he dwells on it and before he can catch himself he's got that familiar, nervous flutter in his gut that only Chris can give him. The kind of emotion it brings out in him is sickening. On one hand it's a great feeling, on the other it scares the living hell out of him. All the wants to do is be close to Chris. He's gotten used to the teams routine, though, and whatever its called that they're doing right now is only the beginning of after school practice. Eddie has at least an hour to kill before he can so much as even touch his boyfriend.

It's a weird kind of agony when you want to be close to someone but you can't be, and for the next twenty minutes it drives Eddie up the wall. His thoughts are always taking things to new heights. What if he were stuck with this feeling forever? What if he lost Chris? What if Chris left him? How could he deal with that if he can hardly deal with a single day of school without affection. It's absolutely ridiculous. He tries to focus on a number of other things. Like the girls talking a short distance away from him, chattering on about some sort of drama in their secluded little group. He's halfway into the saucy part of Tiffany's betrayal of the cheer squad before he decides he's had enough and leaves to duck behind the bleachers for a cigarette. It's a nice hidden spot in the shade that he frequents on afternoons like this, that is, if you ignore all the forgotten garbage dropped from the seating area above. 

With every drag of his cigarette he feels slightly more at ease. The world seems to calm around him instead of prickling his skin and hurting his ears as it had before. The coach is no longer yelling and has since switched to blowing his whistle in short seemingly random bursts. They are half way through practice now, Eddie thinks and he sighs heavily to exhale his last below of smoke before snuffing the cigarette into the grass under his sneaker. He returns to the bleachers with a newfound pep to his step, just in time to hear about how Tiffany will definitely be kicked from the squad for whatever she had done.

 

Thirty minutes later and practice is finally over. Eddie waits for Chris outside the gym, and when he finally emerges in all his showered, squeaky clean glory Eddie's hand immediately finds it's way into the other boy's grasp. 

"So, you ready for our little date tonight?" Chris says and his grin is giving Eddie that fluttery feeling all over again. 

"Mmhm," Eddie hums and works up a smile of his own, It's half-assed and lopsided, but it will have to do. 

The two of them walk to Chris' truck in a comfortable silence that has become almost customary on their after school drive back to Chris' house. Eddie finds it comforting, really, to simply listen to the radio without the pressure to make conversation. That's something he really likes about the other; his preference of only speaking when it's needed. That and his incredible everything else.

Video games and MTV fill the space of time between late afternoon and evening for the boys, but once the sun is ready to set they are already making their way out of town toward their ever romantic date they had planned. Even from the road it's easy to tell that the property is abandoned. It's eerily still, as if entering a separate zone of reality when they pull up in the drive and if they had been in one of Eddie's beloved horror flicks, Chris' shutting off of the ignition would have been their first downfall. In fact, Eddie half expects some weirdo to emerge from the farmhouse to ask them if they're lost and if they'd like to stay for dinner.

The blue tint of evening is settling fast across their part of the world, but Eddie can still make out everything around them. The fields surrounding the house have long since become overgrown, yellow grass covering what used to be finely tilled land. A few sad stalks of corn still sprout up out of the weeds, however, and Eddie finds that it only adds to the unsettling feeling enveloping him. Tearing his gaze from the fields, he swings open the passenger door of the truck to hop out and get a better look at the house. It doesn't do much to make him feel any better. The paneling on the outside is worn and weathered, the dirty white paint chipping away to show the old wood underneath that has since only functioned as food for termites. Pieces of rusted farm equipment are scattered about the front yard as well and when Eddie looks beyond the house to the old shed behind it he can see where it's all come from. The tiny tin building is practically overflowing with a mess of rust and old tires.

"You think anything is still inside?" Chris asks from inside the truck where he's leaned over and shuffling through the glove compartment. 

"Probably," Eddie replies and shrugs, folding his arms across his chest, "last time I was here it didn't look like they'd be selling much of this guys old junk. No one really wanted it."

When Eddie turns back to Chris he finds that they now have a flashlight on hand and there's something hurriedly being given to him. It's a paperclip. Chris wants him to pick the lock. With the house being as ancient as it is, that should be a piece of cake, so he knowingly takes it and heads for the front door. 

As expected, the lock gives way with minimal effort and the door swings open. Immediately Eddie is hit with stale air and the smell of mothballs. It's enough to make him gag, but he holds it back and peaks his head in. What sunlight is left is shimmering in through the dirty windows, but it doesn't do much to aid Eddie's sight. Only when Chris flicks on the flashlight is he able to see just how much was left from that sale, and its basically everything. Two recliners and a couch sit under layers of dust in the middle of the living room along with odds and ends and trinkets that fill the shelves surrounding a brick fireplace. When Eddie gets a closer look he can even see ashes from a fire inside that no one had bothered to touch. 

"Hey, come look at this," Chris calls from across the room and when Eddie approaches he can see that Chris is looking at some sort of photo. "They didn't even take the family photos outta here. What were they trying to do? Keep this place like a museum?"

Eddie scoffs at that, grimacing at the sheer amount of sepia memories laid on the table before him. "Who fuckin' knows, man. It's creepy though."

Chris nods in agreement before flipping over the Polaroid in his hand to reveal red ink. "Easter 1947," He reads aloud and then takes another look at the photo depicting three very excited children and a man in a bunny suit. "More like Halloween 1947."

Eddie can't help but laugh, but it's hard to tell if he's laughing to ease the tight feeling in his chest or because it was actually funny. "Let's check out the rest of this place."

The hardwood creaking beneath them, they make their way into the kitchen of the old home where floral wallpaper and cracked, yellow linoleum greets them along with aged appliances. Stacks of dishes still sit on the dining table and one even has a price tag on it. $2 is scribbled in black ink on a green paper tag and once he's noticed one tag, the rest are brought to his attention. Nearly everything in the house is still marked to be sold. "They haven't touched this place since I was here last?" Eddie mumbles and now the feeling of unease is absolutely overwhelming. The memory of being here with his late mother is stuck on repeat in his mind and in every room he relives it. It's not a horrible thing, per se, but it causes him enough discomfort for Chris to notice and Eddie appreciates the comforting hand on his back.

They stay like that for a moment before a loud thump can be heard from one of the rooms upstairs and they both freeze on the spot. Chris gingerly moves the flashlight about, casting it back through the doorway and into the living room, but nothing can be seen. He eventually illuminates the stairs and turns to Eddie with an unexpected smirk. "Should we go check it out?"

Eddie replies with a swift "Whatever you wanna do," to mask his nervousness, but Chris doesn't buy it right away and tilts his head knowingly. He only makes a move for the stairway once Eddie urges him to do so against his own better judgement. 

"This is how we die," Eddie mentions flatly, one hand grasping the back of Chris' shirt as to not lose him in the dark. "Haven't you ever watched a scary movie? We're being _those guys._ " 

Chris only snorts at that as if he doesn't believe him. It's edging on infuriating because he's kind of terrified, but he won't let that on.

 

Once they reach the top of the stairs Chris shines the light around the small area before peering down the hall. When there is nothing to be seen, he moves on to the bedrooms. There are three of them, and in every single one there is a made bed along with more personal trinkets for that exquisite, creepy as all hell, no-one-has-been-here-in-seven-years decor. Apart from the way it makes Eddie's skin crawl, though, he really can't see anything out of place. Certainly nothing that would cause such a loud noise. That's not what has him bothered at the moment, though. No, what has him bothered is Chris' calm attitude about the whole thing as he takes a seat on the bed in front of him and Eddie joins him if only to be close. Chris has some sort of angel figurine in his hand that he took from the night stand, there's a tag on it as well indicating that it was to be sold for four dollars. They sit there silently for what feels like ages in a house so old. Far too many mysterious noises are happening for Eddie's liking.

But then Chris breaks the silence.

"So, you and your mom came here together? Like... Your biological mom?" 

Eddie lets the question hang in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time, but it feels like he's choking on the answer. 

"Yeah. I was just a kid, though. I don't remember that much." He decides to say so that maybe Chris won't pry any further. But it doesn't work.

"You hardly ever talk about her."

And there it is again. The uncomfortable silence and Eddie could sock Chris in the nose for how he's making him feel, but he doesn't. It wouldn't be fair. Chris doesn't know the story.

"That's because she's dead. And has been for a long time... There's no use in talking about someone that abandoned you." The last part of the sentence isn't something that Eddie actually planned on saying, but he can feel anger swelling in him, replacing any fears he had harbored before. It distracts him from everything else around him, even the next prolonged silence that won't quite settle before Chris speaks again.

"Sorry to hear that," is all he can really say at first, but when Eddie doesn't respond he decides perhaps he can give consolation. "I know how you feel, though. My dad's been gone a while too."

"At least your dad loved you." Eddie spits, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that he is beyond upset. He's letting his emotions consume him- he can't stop it- he hates it.

"Are you saying your mom didn't love you?"

"I don't know." 

And with that Eddie rises from his spot on the bed, storming out as quickly as he can in utter darkness. It's a miracle he doesn't trip on his way to the front door with how rushed he is to escape not only the conversation, but the memories physically surrounding him. He can hear Chris calling after him and he can hear him shut and re-lock the front door, but he can't look at him. Not when he's feeling so much because of him.

"I'm sorry I brought it up, lets just... Go home." Chris sighs, leaning against the side of his truck some distance from the other boy. With the vibe he is giving off, he really doesn't want to get too close.

"Yeah well, there's a reason I don't talk about shit," Eddie barks, "and it's 'cause I don't fucking want to. That should be enough!" His hands are shaking at this point so he balls them into fists. His blood is boiling, clouding his usual judgement and blurring his defensive lines. "But since you brought it all up, I'll tell you. My mother was trash who never once cared about me. She was a coward who took the easy way out when things got too scary for her- for her!" A sarcastic scoff breaks Eddie's ranting and he shakes his head. His voice is significantly softer though no less harsh when he speaks again. "What about for me?" 

Chris stands in silence for a moment, weighing his options. It's hard to tell what Eddie needs at the moment. Space? A hug? It's all up in the air as far as he can tell and he really doesn't want to make the wrong move here. Eventually he decides to approach the other boy, simply taking his hand into his own. It's somewhat surprising when Eddie eagerly takes it, squeezing hard. 

"I'm sorry," Chris says again and his thumb strokes Eddie's gently. "Sounds to me like you've got every right to be upset."

Those words seem to calm Eddie even if just a little and he turns to plant his face directly into Chris' chest. Chris strokes his hair, allowing a now much more comfortable silence to befall them. Much like the ones on their drives home from school.

"Just promise you won't leave me too." Eddie says, the sentence muffled against Chris' shirt.

"You got it."


End file.
